


ringa ringa

by falloutgirl



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: M/M, accidental nudes!, chanyeol's an awkward college dude, there's tennessee fire whiskey involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 05:50:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18867019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutgirl/pseuds/falloutgirl
Summary: Chanyeol enters in whatever number he thinks is as close to memory as possible. He opens up the messaging app, and selects five of the best pictures. It’s not a surprise they’re all the ones of him flexing his back, arms—showing off hisgoods. Whatever, Chanyeol doesn’t care.I’m hot,he thinks, because he’s too tired to say it out loud. He hits send before he can stop himself.





	ringa ringa

**Author's Note:**

> for suhoneyfest prompt #14.
> 
> [Chanyeol sends his nudes to the wrong number and receives and unexpected answer. Also, he finds out the number belongs to his hot ex baby sitter.]

Chanyeol’s eyes cross each other as his fingers fumble across the phone screen, squinting in the darkness of his dorm. His roommate is out for the night and Chanyeol just finished a hell week of midterms. He tries harder to focus on scrolling through his contact list, but the four consecutive shots of Tennessee Fire whiskey he had earlier is starting to make reading his phone screen even more difficult than siphoning through the hell that is Baroque period musical theory. Chanyeol’s phone slides out of his hand and falls on his face, knocking against his jaw. He thinks, vehemently, they should throw the whole Baroque period away.

“Yeah,” he says out loud and to absolutely no one. The bottle of Jack Daniels eyes him back profusely and Chanyeol thinks about how it was a gift from his ex-boyfriend, who turned out to be one, an asshole, and two, a cheater. Chanyeol shrugs off his bed, thinks, _fuck it_ , and pours himself another shot.

“F-fuck business majors,” he grumbles, swallowing the liquor down, “fuck them.”

 _You did fuck them alright,_ Chanyeol’s brain supplies, haphazardly, and the sudden intrusive thought is nearly enough to send Chanyeol tripping over his feet. God, he’s so glad Jongin’s at Baekhyun’s dorm tonight. Chanyeol knows he’s a hot fucking mess right now. _You fucked that stupid ex of yours a lot, you idiot_. “God, I’m so foolish,” Chanyeol says, and thinks of Ashanti’s song as he pours himself another.

He gets back on his bed, this time bottle in hand, and lays it down on his pillow next to him. It’s been months since his stupid breakup, months since he caught his ex, literally on his knees, and in _Chanyeol’s_ fucking dorm no less, with some wide eyed fucking freshman bitch. Chanyeol runs a hand under his shirt, fingers grazing over abs where smooth, soft skin used to be, and thinks about his stupid ex and his stupid face.

“I’m so hot now,” Chanyeol says to the empty room, “anyone would be lucky to have me.”  _Past or present,_ Chanyeol thinks to himself. And shuts that line of thought before it can go further.

He snuggles up next to the Tennessee Fire. Chanyeol’s face and body feel warm all over. “Stupid bitch doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Chanyeol grumbles to himself, as he wiggles deeper under the covers. He’s in that place between sleep and restlessness, before his hands run over his body one more time. Chanyeol thinks about how months ago, he was less toned, carried a bit more weight around his midsection, something that Baekhyun would laugh at during their seminars and call _love weight_. Baekhyun wasn’t wrong of course, Chanyeol was in so much love with his dumbass ex-boyfriend. And Baekhyun was the first person Chanyeol ran to when all hell broke loose. Baekhyun would be here now, too, maybe, drinking the night away with Chanyeol, except his best friend and his roommate are so fucking in love with each other, so now Chanyeol is down two for the count of friends he’d let witness him in this awful state, and he can’t muster up the energy to switch his pride off enough to call Sehun and have him witness this horrendous bout of drunken stupidity.

Chanyeol sighs to himself and clutches the bottle of whiskey tightly. “I’m hot,” he says, and flexes his arms on instinct. “Fuck, I’m so hot,” he says, eyes getting misty and feeling so much bolder than he’s felt the entire night.

It’s definitely the alcohol, of course. “Fuck, I’m sexy,” Chanyeol mumbles to himself, before turning on the lamp by his desk so that he can admire his body in the full mirror against the wall. He stumbles out of his bed, blanket dragged off and tangled around his feet, before lifting up his shirt and watching the way his abs ripple in the mirror. Where there was once just a soft, squishy tummy, is now hard defined lines. Where there was once love handles, is now an almost solidly defined ‘v’ line. Chanyeol takes his shirt all the way off and tosses it on the floor. He turns to his side and flexes in the mirror again, giggling to himself. He watches the way his arms tighten and pulse, watches the way the biceps show. “Fuck, my body is so hot,” he laughs, and his throat burns with all the alcohol he’s consumed.

All at once an idea goes off in his head. Chanyeol goes back to his bed and grabs his phone from beneath the sheets, careful not to break the bottle of whiskey. He turns the flash on and snaps, picture after picture of himself, from as many angles as possible, with his sweatpants slung low to show off that newly acquired “v” line.

“That’ll show that fucker,” Chanyeol says, downright fucking delirious. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Chanyeol repeats, as he tries in vain to type in his ex-boyfriend’s phone number by memory. He deleted everything about him in the literal hour after catching him cheating, and Chanyeol’s never been one to remember phone numbers that much anyway. _That’s what smartphones are for_ , he thinks. Chanyeol turns with his back to the mirror to get some impressive shots of his now newly defined shoulder muscles, imagining the way someone would grip tightly onto his body as he fucked into them. He’s all hardlines and taut skin now, no longer the guy who hid in the oversized sweatshirts like he used to be.

“F-fuck yeah,” Chanyeol snickers, and he knows, somewhere in his mind, that this is probably a bad idea. But Chanyeol thinks about his stupid ex again, how he didn’t fucking care about sucking someone else’s dick when he had Chanyeol’s entire heart in his hands, and now Chanyeol just wants to be petty for a fucking change.

He turns back to facing the mirror head on, and realizes belated that his impromptu photoshoot has made him _hard_.

Chanyeol laughs at the absurdity of it all.

But he still takes pictures, of course. The way the bulge of his cock presses up against the front of his sweatpants—sweatpants that are now the right size and not two sizes up, thank you very much—shows off just how fucking impressive Park Chanyeol is.

“He fucking gave this up,” Chanyeol laughs to himself, “stupid ass bitch,” he says, before fumbling out of the camera app and back to figuring out his exes phone number. Chanyeol walks back to bed and crashes against the pillows. The suddenly feel of softness beneath his head starts to make him drowsy, and Chanyeol knows he’s within seconds of sleep.

He still feels petty as fuck though.

Chanyeol enters in whatever number he thinks is as close to memory as possible. He opens up the messaging app, and selects five of the best pictures. It’s not a surprise they’re all the ones of him flexing his back, arms—showing off his goods. Whatever, Chanyeol doesn’t care. _I’m hot,_ he thinks, because he’s too tired to say it out loud. He types in a simple _bet you miss me now huh ;;)))_ in the text box.

Chanyeol hits send before he can stop himself and crashes within the two minutes after.

***

 **[Unknown Number]:** Chanyeol…?  
**[Unknown Number]:** Park Chanyeol….?  
**[Unknown Number]:** Wow… you aren’t the shy little fifteen year old I used to babysit before, huh? Haha  
**[Unknown Number]:** This is Kim Junmyeon, by the way. I’m sure you sent these photos to the wrong person.

 **[Unknown Number]:** By the way, tell your mom I said hi. :)

“Fuck,” Chanyeol grumbles, fumbling for his phone, headache raging. He fucked up last night, more than usual, fucked up to the tune of drinking nearly half a bottle of whiskey all to his fucking self, fucked up enough that-- _oh god, I really did take those photos,_ Chanyeol thinks—he sent nudes, and not even fucking tasteful ones, to his—

 _Kim Junmyeon._ Chanyeol’s brain supplies, mind playing catch up. He runs to the bathroom and throws up his stomach. Forehead leaning on the gross toilet seat, body covered in a layer of disgustingly dried sweat. “Former babysitter,” Chanyeol mumbles, and tries to recenter himself. Junmyeon knows his mom. Junmyeon’s mom is best friends with his mom. _Oh god,_ Chanyeol thinks, _Oh no._

He throws up again.

Chanyeol reaches for the towel hanging haphazardly on the rack in the bathroom, and buries his face in it. He hopes it’s enough to stop the awful onslaught of embarrassment that courses through his veins. When he woke up this morning, hungover as shit, he didn’t remember much of anything he did the night before. That is, until, of course, he checked his phone and read those texts, from Kim Junmyeon of all people—

Kim Junmyeon who remembers what Chanyeol looks like 100 pounds soaking wet, who knew him when he was a chubby, shy kid with Harry Potter framed glasses, carrying that dumbass ferret around and showing everyone. _Oh god,_ Chanyeol thinks, _my life is over._ Junmyeon is two years his senior, his mother’s best friend’s oldest, coolest son, and sure, Chanyeol vividly remembers being fifteen and following Junmyeon around like a lost puppy, vividly remembers Junmyeon, in between being Chanyeol’s “babysitter”, if you could even call it that, calmly asking Chanyeol, _“Why do you live?”_

At fifteen, Chanyeol had just shoved his ferret in Junmyeon’s face and absolutely called it a day. By the time Chanyeol turned sixteen, Junmyeon was off to college and his mother no longer thought he needed a _watcher_. But still, the memory of Junmyeon’s gaze haunts him, as does most things about Junmyeon. Chanyeol gets the errant life update from his mom every now and then, an _oh you know Junmyeon’s just graduated college and he’s working at a law firm as an intern, why don’t you look into something like that too,_ before Chanyeol tries to brush past the subject out of fear of overwhelming embarrassment taking over. Remembering his youth, remembering the ferret, remembering Junmyeon.

All in all, Chanyeol tries to pretend he was never fifteen to begin with.

He gets out of the bathroom and stares at his phone like it’s a bomb. _Guess there’s no pretending anymore,_ he thinks.

Chanyeol plops down onto his bed, fixing the whiskey bottle on top of his nightstand. “I’m never drinking again,” he mutters to himself, knowing he has to be an adult and deal with this shit.

 _At least you didn’t send it to your shitty ex,_ a small voice in Chanyeol’s head supplies, and Chanyeol thinks, yeah. Maybe it’s a good thing his dumbass of an ex-boyfriend didn’t get these photos instead. Maybe it’s a good thing he won’t have to deal with the humiliation of his ex seeing these, seeing how desperate Chanyeol is in his weakest moments…

But then he remembers they went to  _Junmyeon_ of all people, and that. That is a can of worms Chanyeol has kept a lid on for years, and would firmly like to keep in place for as long as he lives. However, there's no way he can go about his day now, thinking about Junmyeon and his text messages and the fact that he  _knows_ what Chanyeol's cock looks like now. Fully hard.

"This just gets better and better," Chanyeol grumbles to himself. He fumbles with his phone one last time before biting the bullet and texting Junmyeon. 

 **[Me]:** Hi… Junmyeon hyung. Yes, it’s me Park Chanyeol. Please don’t tell my mom I sent you dirty photos t__t

Chanyeol thinks there can't be anything worse than going straight to the point. Junmyeon has already fucking seen his cock, he has no more room left for humiliation in his body anymore.

 **[Me]:** I feel really bad? Are you free any time this week? I’m so sorry. I would like to make it up to you.

Chanyeol doesn’t think he’d get a reply so quickly, but halfway through retyping his next message, his phone buzzes.

 **[Unknown Number]:** Oh Chanyeol, it really will be a long time no see. I’m free on Friday if you’d like to meet.

 _Great,_ Chanyeol replies quickly, and texts in the name of his favorite cafe. He exchanges a few more pleasantries with Junmyeon, working out the logistics of their meet up. It feels both intense and surreal, to talk to Junmyeon again, even over text. Chanyeol collapses on his bed, emotionally spent and quite honestly probably still hungover. He stares at the ceiling for what feels like an eternity before his phone buzzes in his hand again.

 **[Junmyeon]:** you know, if you wanted me out on a date, all you had to do was ask:)

 _What?_ Chanyeol’s heart starts racing.

 **[Junmyeon]:** see you on friday, sweetie.

 _Oh,_ Chanyeol thinks, and feels his face heat up. _This is how it’s going to be._ Not even seven years of space can calm the beating of his heart, and suddenly, Chanyeol feels like a stupid fifteen year old all over again, chasing after his Junmyeon hyung, following him around, not knowing why, wanting to bask in his presence, not understanding back then, anything that had to do with feelings, with when fondness passed through friendship and entered into a crush.

Because that’s what this is of course, that’s what this has always been. Chanyeol, for all his embarrassment around his hyung, has still held a torch for him all these years.

And he can’t stop the beating of his heart, no matter how hard he wants too.

***

“You did what?” Jongin exclaims, while Baekhyun feeds him food. Chanyeol would stare at the two of them in disgust, but they’ve been together for so long, and his best friends for even longer, that anything they do in front of them passes right over his head. Baekhyun pushes the spoon into Jongin’s mouth and he accepts the food willingly. Chanyeol shudders at the devilish, almost disgustingly aroused look in Baekhyun’s eye.

“I sent my fucking nudes to Junmyeon,” Chanyeol whispers angrily, having repeated himself for the third time.

“We heard you the first two times,” Baekhyun says, and he’s positioned in the booth across from Chanyeol, body completely facing Jongin as he feeds him. People are looking, Chanyeol can tell, giving their group the stink eye, but this has been going on for so long… Chanyeol doesn’t care. He reaches for a garlic fry from Baekhyun’s plate and narrowly misses getting his hand swatted away. He shoves the fries into his mouth.

“Then why am i repeating myself?” Chanyeol all but whines, and the elderly woman sitting two seats across from them in the diner looks up from her newspaper and gives Chanyeol a demonic look.

“Because it’s funny to keep hearing you say it,” Jongin exclaims, around a mouth full of food.

“Chew,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol rolls his eyes while Jongin quietly eats his food.

“You’re one to talk, always eating like a cow,” Chanyeol scoffs.

“I’ll have your head, Park Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says, at the same time that Jongin says, “That’s my boyfriend! Be nice!”

Chanyeol groans. He hates his friends. He shoves the rest of Baekhyun’s garlic fries in his mouth in retaliation, and doesn’t feel bad, not one bit.

“So what are you gonna do about it then?” Baekhyun asks, as he wipes Jongin’s face from all the food grease. Chanyeol watches the movement of his hands. In some, alternative universe, he finds himself more and more wanting to be like Jongin, wanting someone who will do the weird, gross and nurturing relationship things that Baekhyun does for Jongin half the time, while getting his shit rocked every night. _Think of the devil,_ Chanyeol tells himself, because in that moment Jongin takes Baekhyun's fingers in his hands and kisses his palm, open mouthed.

“We are in fucking public,” Chanyeol whines, “please have some decency.”

“And we are in love,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol barely suppresses a gag as he looks at Jongin’s face. Disgusting puppy eyes staring at Baekhyun like he hung the fucking universe.

 _God,_ Chanyeol thinks, and this is one of those worst moments, one of those moments where he actually wishes he had someone like the way his two best friends have each other.

Baekhyun pats Jongin’s cheek and he melts into the embrace.

 _Oh yeah,_ Chanyeol thinks, and barely, suppresses a gag.

“Well,”  Chanyeol starts, and tries to pick back up the conversation, “I’m going to meet with him on Friday. Kind of apologize and everything. Maybe buy him a drink?”

“A date?” Jongin asks, and he turns his full attention to Chanyeol, “with your hot, former babysitter?”

“Babysitter that asked you 'who allowed you to live?'”

“He didn’t say it like that,” Chanyeol defends, though he doesn’t want to acknowledge why. “And it isn’t a date, okay.”

“Sure,” Baekhyun and Jongin say in unison, and Chanyeol looks at them in disgust.

They continue eating the rest of their food in relative silence, albeit except for the little giggles Jongin seems to get out of Baekhyun every couple of minutes. Chanyeol is nearly 100% positive they’re playing footsie under the table. And all at once he is reminded, viscerally, that he is third wheeling his friends.

“I’m miserable,” he announces, as they get up to pay and leave. Jongin waves them all off as he treats for lunch, and Chanyeol gives him a nice, all too welcoming, bro-pat on the shoulder.

“It’s okay buddy,” Jongin pats his shoulder back as they walk outside, “your date this Friday will be fun. Loosen up. Look alive!”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun agrees, “you keep telling us you’re hot as shit, showing off your abs… so go to meet up with Junmyeon and impress him,” Baekhyun makes grabby hands for Chanyeol’s bicep and squeezes. Objectively, Chanyeol _knows_ what Baekhyun is doing when he grabs his arms like this, when he, for lack of a better phrase,  _feels Chanyeol up_ all the damn time. His smile is sinister and Chanyeol does _not_ miss the look that flits across Jongin’s eyes. Baekhyun runs his fingers down Chanyeol's arm once again and Chanyeol barely suppresses an eye roll .

“Okay,” Chanyeol easily agrees, anything at this point sounds better than his original plan. He shrugs Baekhyun's hand off his arm.

“Show him those guns in real life,” Baekhyun points out, and Jongin nods.

“A picture can only say so much,” he grabs Baekhyun’s hand. “We’ll be going now,” Jongin adds, and he grips Baekhyun's arm tightly. Chanyeol doesn't miss the gleam in Baekhyun's eyes. “Don’t stay up at home for me.”

“Wouldn’t even if you asked.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jongin replies, and Baekhyun’s laughter is enough to drown out the noise on the street.

***

Friday comes all too quickly for Chanyeol’s taste, time spent counting down the hours until meeting up with Junmyeon revolving more around frantically wondering if he should dress up or dress down, much to the snickers of his friends. Without any exams or pressing homework to keep himself busy, Chanyeol spends most of the week ruminating in his thoughts, wondering what Junmyeon sounds like, wondering how his hair is cut. Because of course, with only three hours left 'til their meeting, it dawns on Chanyeol that he has no idea if Junmyeon looks the same.

“Oh fuck,” he says, switching his shirt again for the nth time, “oh, shit.”

 _What if he’s hot?_ His monkey brain supplies, _W_ _hat if he’s sexier now than in memory?_

And Chanyeol hadn’t even thought to ask Junmyeon for a picture, way too caught up in his own existential dilemmas. They didn’t text much at all the last few days, just an errant _‘hey is friday still good’_ text to which junmyeon easily confirmed, _yes, we’re still going on our date._ Chanyeol, of course, had no idea how to respond to that.

Chanyeol doesn’t let himself linger on what any of that shit is supposed to mean. The Junmyeon in his memory had a dark storm cloud that followed him around, a face most often pinched in annoyance, and eyes that seemed to stare directly into Chanyeol’s soul. He shudders, not of his own volition. All too soon Chanyeol finds himself throwing his clothes on haphazardly, and making a mad dash to the cafe to get there before Junmyeon.

His heart can’t stop beating no matter how much he tries to calm himself down, and he feels his palms get clammy even in the chilly weather. Chanyeol walks inside the quaint little coffee shop, called _Lu_ , and is greeted by Minseok, the barista with a nice warm smile behind the counter. The place smells divine, as it always does, cinnamon sugar and cookies wafting into his nose. Chanyeol smiles back even though he thinks it might resemble more of a grimace, and says hello.

“How are you today, Chanyeol?” Minseok asks, from where he’s just rearranging the cookies.

“Good, good,” Chanyeol says, eyes still glued to the display case, “here to uh… meet someone?”

“Is that a statement or a question?” Minseok grins.

“Statement.”

“So a date?” Minseok shoves two snickerdoodle cookies into a bag and hands it over to Chanyeol wordlessly. Chanyeol shakes his head, but one stern look from Minseok has him ducking his face in thanks.

“Not a date,” Chanyeol continues.

“So _definitely_ a date.”

“No!” Chanyeol says, voice cracking slightly.

“Hey,” Lu Han, the owner of the cafe, pops his head out from behind the curtain separating the front from the kitchen, “Baozi, stop bullying my favorite customer.” Lu Han smiles.

“Favorite,” Chanyeol repeats, cheeks gone rosy.

“Shut up,” Minseok says in Lu Han’s direction, rolling his eyes.

“You’ll pay for that later,” Lu Han intones, and Chanyeol bites back the gag rising in the back of his throat when he sees the way Minseok’s eyes gleam at that statement.

“I’m surrounded by people in love,” he grumbles to himself, handing over cash for his drink.

“You always get vanilla chai,” Minseok says, accepting the money and getting Chanyeol’s change, “try something different. You’re on a date, after all.”

“It is not a date,” Chanyeol whisper seethes, though there’s no heat behind it. Minseok’s only response is to laugh as he hands Chanyeol back his change, and motions for Chanyeol to find an empty seat. Chanyeol throws all of the leftover change into the tip jar and makes his way to one of the open window seats, facing the door. This way, Chanyeol surmises, he can try and guess which man Junmyeon is when he walks in.

Minseok brings Chanyeol’s drink over shortly after and gives Chanyeol a saucy wink. “Share your cookies with your date,” he says, and leaves before Chanyeol can give him a reply. Chanyeol finds himself too keyed up to properly focus on eating his cookies or drinking his drink, mind racing with the way that Junmyeon will look when he walks in. Will he be in a suit? Jeans? Does he wear glasses now? Is his hair a different color? Chanyeol can’t decide what’s worse: Junmyeon showing up and being the picture perfect image of who he was at eighteen, or walking in like he’s somehow gone from high school graduate to GQ model.

Chanyeol keeps his eyes trained on the door, letting the jingle of the bell alert him to customers. He’s sipped his drink a few times now, keeping his hands on the cup to look busy. He arrived well over forty minutes early, to give himself enough time to prepare for his meeting-that-is-not-a-date.

At least, that’s what he’s going to keep telling himself.

Finally, the door jingles one more time, and Chanyeol looks up to see the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life.

Oh no, he thinks, as he watches this man walk to where Minseok and Lu Han are at behind the counter, both of them shamelessly staring. He’s dressed well, better than well, in a nice tight three piece navy blue suit, with a matching silk tie. He has glasses on, black rimmed, and his pitch back hair is artfully styled off of his forehead.

“Oh no,” Chanyeol repeats himself, as he watches in horror as the man he’s openly staring at starts to walk his way. "Oh no."

“Hi Chanyeol,” the man says, and Chanyeol still refuses to believe it, “it’s me—Junmyeon hyung.”

“Hhhh,” Chanyeol garbles, out loud, and the noise that escapes his mouth is enough to get a smile out of Junmyeon. He slides into his seat easily, right across from Chanyeol, and nods his head down slightly. Chanyeol's eyes focus in on the silver silk tie, and the black tie clip attached to it. It's so shiny, it's so pretty. It's so—

“It’s nice to see you again,” Junmyeon starts.

“Ahhhh,” is Chanyeol’s intelligent reply, brain still stuck on boot-up mode, like he’s somehow running Windows 95 instead.

“Sorry!” Chanyeol blurts, after it dawns on his consciousness that he’s openly staring. Junmyeon doesn’t seem to mind, no of course he doesn’t, if the look in his eye is anything to go by, Chanyeol would say Junmyeon looks _glad_ he’s openly staring. _None of that,_ Chanyeol thinks to himself, trying harder to remember that this isn’t a  date. This isn’t date. This isn’t—

“A date?” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol looks up to meet his eyes, smirk on his features. Chanyeol is suddenly hit with the realization that he was saying all of those last few thoughts out loud, right in front of Junmyeon, right where Junmyeon can—

“Oh god,” Chanyeol says, and averts his gaze, “sorry.”

“No, keep going,” Junmyeon motions, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, “keep saying how this isn’t a date. I’m sure if you repeat it enough it’ll start to become true.”

“Gargh,” Chanyeol says, and everything he wanted to say earlier has left his mind. “God… Can I do over?”

“Go ahead,” Junmyeon smiles.

“Sorry—sorry for the, oh God, the pictures,” Chanyeol says, covering his face with his palms, brain finally starting to work once again. _Junmyeon is so hot and i don’t know what to do about it. Junmyeon is so hot and I cannot look him in the eye_. “Please, I’m so sorry, please don’t tell your mom, or she’ll tell my mom, and I just. Cannot have that.”

Junmyeon actually snorts. “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry,” he says, and reaches a hand out across the table for Chanyeol to hold. Miraculously, it seems, because Chanyeol doesn’t ever remember Junmyeon being a tactile person. With him, at least.

“You look different,” Chanyeol blurts out, with a lack of anything better to say.

“So do you,” Junmyeon fires back, smile. He grips Chanyeol’s hand tightly. Chanyeol thinks about how disgusting his sweaty palms must feel. He pushes a cookie over towards Junmyeon, who smiles as he takes soft little bites. Chanyeol thinks he looks like a bunny rabbit, and would call him one, but then he remembers how they used to be, and doesn’t want to say something to set Junmyeon off.

“How’s um…” Chanyeol starts, unsure.

“You don’t have to be scared around me, okay?” Junmyeon says, and his hand has still not left Chanyeol’s.

“Funny you say that,” Chanyeol replies, heart beating. In his head, he’s thinking about how hot junmyeon is, how much more centered he seems, how much more focused and controlled. The dark storm cloud seems to have gone away sometime in the last seven years.

But Junmyeon must take it the wrong way, because he grips Chanyeol’s hand tighter. “I was a little shit when I was seventeen,” he starts, “said a lot of things to you I shouldn’t have… you were just a kid.”

“We’re only two years apart.”

“Just a kid,” Junmyeon says, and rubs his thumb over Chanyeol’s knuckles. Chanyeol feels warm inside. Ridiculously warm. “And I’m sorry.”

Chanyeol’s chest expands, he matches the look in Junmyeon’s eye, and returns the smile back. It’s easy from there, for them to reconnect. Over talks of Junmyeon’s new job, his suit, his _look_ , to how Chanyeol faired in high school, and now college. Junmyeon is quick to give him advice as well as jabs, quick to throw Chanyeol looks and cues that leave him chasing after him, that leave him rendered speechless, all for Junmyeon to push on forward, to keep going on, like nothing has changed at all. Chanyeol knows he’s doing it on purpose, playing it slyly, but he keeps up with everything Chanyeol says now, all his word vomit, and nods his head along in agreement. Chanyeol has never felt so light in years, so carefree, walking on clouds.

“You look good,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol watches this time as Junmyeon’s eyes actually give him a once over. Not like the cursory glance he stole earlier when he first sat down.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol says, proudly. He’s put a lot of work into his body, put a lot of time and effort to get it like this, and even if his cheeks heat up under Junmyeon’s praise, Chanyeol is always going to remember to be polite.

“I like the back photos you sent,” Junmyeon says, nonchalantly, sipping his now lukewarm tea.

For a moment, Chanyeol doesn’t realize what Junmyeon means. For a moment, Chanyeol almost let himself forget _why_ he had to meet up with him in the first place.

Until Junmyeon of course—

“Oh God,” Chanyeol says, and ducks down to cover his face again.

“Don’t be shy, Yeollie, I like a strong back,” Junmyeon intones, and there's an undercurrent of something _else_ Chanyeol refuses to mentally investigate, “be proud of your body,” he adds on with a smirk.

“Ugh, shut up, I regret so much,” Chanyeol mumbles to the floor. Junmyeon all but laughs, and then Chanyeol steers the conversation towards Baekhyun and Jongin again, towards his music major, and the anxiousness that sits in his chest floats away once again. Time in the cafe passes too quickly for Chanyeol’s liking, as he lets himself recharge and bask in Junmyeon’s presence. By the time the sun starts to settle, Chanyeol has realized he and Junmyeon have been here together for hours. His stomach grumbles.

“Hungry?” Junmyeon asks, and Chanyeol is red-faced in shame.

“We should probably go,” Chanyeol says, forlornly. He hasn’t had this much fun with anyone outside of his best friends in a long time—and even then, he still feels like he’s third wheeling in on the fun.

“Where would you like to go?” Junmyeon asks, smile on his face, smile in his eyes.

“Huh?”

“To eat, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon tsks, as he gets up out of the booth, Chanyeol following suit.

“Oh wow,” Chanyeol says, seeing himself standing nearly a head taller than Junmyeon, who barely reaches his neck.

“What the fuck,” Junmyeon says, now _looking up_ to see into Chanyeol’s eyes.

“I kind of like this,” Chanyeol says, before realizing the words have left his mouth. “It used to be the other way around before.”

“You might be… ridiculously taller than me,” Junmyeon intones harshly, but Chanyeol can see his eyes, knows he’s playing, “but I can still take you down.”

 _Oh._ Chanyeol thinks, and his gut clenches.  _I would like that so much,_ he thinks,  _I would like that more than you know_. 

“I-I don’t doubt that, hyung,” Chanyeol replies, feeling sweat at the back of his neck.

“Anyway,” Junmyeon starts, but Chanyeol doesn’t miss the gleam in his eye, “where did you want to eat? If you don’t decide I’ll take you to my favorite bbq place instead.”

“Whatever’s fine,” Chanyeol agrees, still looking at Junmyeon in what he hopes is concealed awe.

“It’ll be our second date, then,” Junmyeon says, and offers out his arm for Chanyeol to loop his through.

 _This wasn’t a date,_ Chanyeol wants to say, but one look at Junmyeon silences any thoughts.

“Second date,” Chanyeol says instead, and Junmyeon replies with a smile.

***

They settle into the noisy restaurant easily, and Chanyeol feels slightly out of place with how… nice and fancy everything is. Junmyeon looks at ease here, in his business suit, looking all the more one of Seoul’s professional elite. Chanyeol suddenly feels like he’s having an out of body experience, in his tight jeans and grey hoodie. But Junmyeon doesn’t seem to mind, even though he _must_ know what they look like to the strangers around them. Chanyeol, looking every bit the college student, and Junmyeon—light years ahead of him.

 _God,_ Chanyeol surmises, _they must think he’s my… daddy_. A vision pops into his head suddenly, of Junmyeon, just like this, eyeing him like a purchase, like a pound of meat, Chanyeol dressed the same but in clothes Junmyeon chose for this date, sliding a black centurion card his way, telling him, _you’re perfect, quite actually, you’re exactly what I’ve been looking for._

“—yeol?” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol shakes his head, looking up at Junmyeon’s smirk. The vision sits tightly in his mind.  

“Sorry, haha, I’ll order whatever you’re having.” He smiles.

Junmyeon’s eyes twinkle and he nods his head, rests his chin in his palm. He winks at Chanyeol and—

Oh.

Junmyeon knows, exactly what he’s doing. And Chanyeol feels like a nervous college student again, on a date with one of Seoul’s elite. He can suddenly register the ladies on the table next to theirs, side-eyeing him, and Chanyeol reaches out a hand, palm up.

Junmyeon accepts his hand, laces their fingers together, tightly clasped.

“A date,” Chanyeol croaks out, voice barely above a whisper.

“A date,” Junmyeon agrees, and the rest of the night snowballs from there.

Chanyeol can barely remember what he and Junmyeon talk about as they laugh over food that tastes just this side of heavenly. Chanyeol moans around each bite, totally innocent, absorbing all the cuts of meat the waiter brings to the table, eating piece after piece. Junmyeon looks delighted at his reactions, if that’s anything to go by, and they fill the night with chatter, laughter, and soju. By the time the last piece of meat is gone, Chanyeol looks up from his daze and checks his phone for the first time all night. It’s nearly nine in the evening now, his phone is covered in text notifications, and it’s registered in his mind that he has not thought of his stupid ex-boyfriend once.

“I’m going to the bathroom I’ll be right back,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol nods at him, smile on his face. While on his own, Chanyeol replies to his friend group chat with Jongin and Baekhyun to let them know he’s both safe.

 **RollieYeollie:** sorry we went to dinner, hes in the restroom rn

 **BigBaek:** a second date already color me impressed

 **Gominnie:** happy for you yeol! ^_^

 **RollieYeollie:** i kind of dont want to go home…? I keep forgetting that we met up cuz of the nudes but like i really enjoyed my day with him lol

 **Gominnie:** holy shit? Bro

 **BigBaek:** do whatever the fuck you can to make him STAY… get it big boy

 **RollieYeollie:** please...do not call me that

_BigBaek has changed RollieYeollie’s screenname to JunmyeonsBoy_

**JunmyeonsBoy:** WHY

 **Gominnie:** HAHAHAHAHahajhahahah don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!

 **JunmyeonsBoy:** thats a fucking lie. You would do SO much. I know you do so much.

 **BigBaek:** what do you think he’s doing rn

 **BigBaek:** its me

 **JunmyeonsBoy:** goodbye . i hope i never see either of you again

 **Gominnie:** jealous im getting ass...why cant a bro be happy for his bro

_JunmyeonsBoy has changed his screenname to JonginAnti_

**Gominnie:** now that’s just low

“Are you all ready?” Junmyeon says, voice close. Chanyeol jumps a bit, sending off a quick _Junmyeon's back_ to his friends before closing up his phone.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, though he doesn’t want this day to end. “Where do we go in here to pay at?” Chanyeol asks, reaching for his wallet. Junmyeon waves him off.

“My treat,” he says, and the gleam in his eye is back.

“Hyung,” Chanyeol whines, cheeks flushing. The fantasy from earlier comes rolling back into his mind.

“My treat,” Junmyeon repeats, and his tone brokers no argument. Chanyeol finally concedes. They walk outside the restaurant together, and Chanyeol has the urge to curl his arm in Junmyeon’s elbow once again. His fingers twitch with want. He holds himself back.

“You know,” Junmyeon says, “you never did tell me who those photos were supposed to be for.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol says, face meeting the chilly night air, “It was for my… god this is embarrassing. They were for my ex who cheated on me. I can’t even imagine what would’ve happened if they went to him.”

“He didn’t deserve you,” Junmyeon says, voice tight, edging aggressive. And Chanyeol sees the sharp look in Junmyeon’s eye.

“He really didn’t,” Chanyeol agrees, and for the first time… he really believes it. “He didn’t deserve me at all.”

“You’re smart, you’re passionate, you’re hilarious, you’re a people person,” Junmyeon keeps going, and Chanyeol doesn’t know what to do with these compliments, “you’re good at making others feel at ease. Good at making others feel like they’re the center of the universe. If he couldn’t recognize that—that’s on him.”

“Th-thanks, hyung,” Chanyeol says, feeling shy. “Um… the same… goes to you, okay? Today was really fun. Like, a lot of fun.” Chanyeol runs his fingers through his hair. “You know you—actually I just… I didn’t think about that dumb ex boyfriend of mine at all. It’s been months since we split… but not once today did I think of anything about him. You made me forget about his existence, to be honest. You really… I just…” the words get lost in Chanyeol’s brain, “thank you,” he settles on, and he bites his bottom lip.

“Look at me, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says. He listens and meets his gaze. They’re in front of Junmyeon’s car now.   

“Would you like to come to my apartment? I know other ways to make someone forget.” His smile is coy. His eyes gleam mischievously.

Chanyeol doesn’t know what to say, feels like he’s gaping open-mouthed like a fish.

“Oh,” Chanyeol says, and Junmyeon’s expression shutters.

“Was I too forward this whole night?” He whispers, “I was hoping I was obvious.”

“Hnnngggg,” Chanyeol says.

“Chanyeol?” Junmyeon asks, “I can take you home.”

And images of Junmyeon _taking him_ fill his mind instead.

“No!” He shouts, brain finally catching up, “I want… I want to follow you. To your place.”

“Just to forget?” Junmyeon asks, voice neutral. And Chanyeol replays the last nearly ten hours in his head in a whirlwind. Junmyeon’s voice, Junmyeon’s smile—the curve of his lips, the twinkle in his eyes. The set of his brow, the grip of his hands. The way he looked at Chanyeol with unfailing focus, even when Chanyeol spoke of Baroque period musical theory, even when Chanyeol complained about Baekhyun, about Jongin, about drinking Tennessee Fire by himself and wallowing in his own pity.

Junmyeon nodded and smiled and asked him questions all the time, smiled and held his gaze and—

Never let him go.

Chanyeol’s heart beats fast. At fifteen. At twenty-two. At knowing Junmyeon back then, at thinking he was the coolest man to walk the earth, at knowing Junmyeon back then, and trying so hard to impress him. At not knowing his own feelings. At not understanding, at fifteen, what any of that meant. At being twenty-two and still tongue-tied, still a fifteen year old, in front of a man who has come to be the longest standing crush Chanyeol could ever have.

 _It could be more one day,_ Chanyeol thinks, if he allowed that. And this is how it’s going to be now, stuck in Junmyeon’s vice grip, stuck between the pages of his smile, stuck on him—for as long as Junmyeon wants him too.

“I,” Chanyeol starts, “I would like that.” He watches the way Junmyeon’s face falls.

“But I would also like more, please,” he says, “if… if hyung will let me.”

“Let’s go home, then,” he says, and Junmyeon sticks out his hand. A vice grip. A promise.

Chanyeol grabs it tightly, and doesn’t let go.  


 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi, thanks for reading! please drop a comment/kudos! have a nice day :~)


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